


Now

by PeachyKeen_WithCream



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Brain Damage, Fucked Up, Gen, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8655145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyKeen_WithCream/pseuds/PeachyKeen_WithCream
Summary: Thranduil is the one to find the hobbit after the battle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Hobbit' nor am I profiting off this.

It is Thranduil who finds the hobbit. He sits among the dead bodies and looking so very confused. He is staring up at the sky, at the eagles flying away from all the carnage and keeps smiling, pointing at them and cooing.

“Halfling? Are you all right?” Thranduil reaches for him. The coo that the hobbit gives him along with the smile has his stomach knotting up.  

“Can we play now?” He asks, looking from the eagles to Thranduil.

The smell of bodies is overwhelming; blood covers the ground and even the hobbit. But he just keeps staring at Thranduil, a smile on his face as he repeats ‘can we play now?’ over and over. Thranduil reaches for the hobbit’s hand, giving him a careful tug upwards and pulls him towards his camp.

“We will play in a moment. We must first talk with Mithrandir." But still every few steps the hobbit pauses to ask: ‘can we play now?’

The wizard looks the hobbit over from top to bottom. His wrinkled face deepens with a frown as he looks from Thranduil back to Bilbo who now sits on a bed, playing with the edge of a blanket.

“There is a large lump on his head—an injury that is irreversible, I fear.” Gandalf says quietly, watching as Bilbo moves from the blankets to his robes.

“There is nothing you can do then?”

“If I knew a spell that could put him at the age of a child and would allow him to age all over again, I would do it. But that would not fix anything. Bilbo is alive, though his mind is gone.”

“Will you escort him home?” 

“I worry to think about what will happen to him. His family will likely take away his home, and I would not trust any of his relatives to care for him in this state.” 

“The home is his?”

“Yes.”

“And he has no children? No immediate family besides distant relatives?”

Gandalf nods, brushing his hand away from his beard.

“I will take care of the halfling. It seems that he is in no state to make decisions about his home. I trust you will take care of it.” Thranduil holds his hand out.

“Come; let’s see if we cannot find you some food and then something for us to play with.”

-

It is with the assistance of Gandalf that Bilbo’s furniture is sent to Mirkwood where his rooms are set up under his direction. He and Thranduil stand in the doorway, watching as other elves scramble to put the furniture where he tells them to. Bilbo clutches a toy in his hands, looking back and forth as they move chairs.

“How is this Bilbo?” Feren asks, looking hopeful as he moves the bedframe for the fifth time in a row.

“Can we play now?” Bilbo asks hopefully. Feren opens his mouth, preparing to sigh until he sees the icy glare of his king and then he’s nodding as Bilbo lets out a squeal and drags him into the hallway.

There is a large part that feels very much like he is raising a child again, and there are several moments that he has to remind himself, he is. And unlike Legolas, this is not a child who will ever progress past a certain point.

The mornings start early, earlier than he can ever remember them starting with Legolas. Bilbo wakes him up to ask if they could play. Or to announce his hunger.

Thranduil comes to learn how to multitask between changing sheets, playing, and reminding him not to feed his toys. 

Bilbo forgets about any worlds outside of this new home. Until the day a guard approaches him with a letter. easy to forget that a world exists outside

"Lord Bard wishes to have you participate in negotiations.” 

“I will come. Please request a distraction for Bilbo while we negotiate."

Thranduil watches Bilbo’s face as they arrive at Erebor, keeping his grip on his hand firm. The expression on his face is open, warm as he glances around.

“Do you remember the last time you were here Bilbo? There were eagles.” Thranduil says quietly as he walks him through the halls of Erebor.

“Eagles? Eagles…” The word rolls off Bilbo’s tongue thickly and for a moment Thranduil nearly smiles. Until he comes face to face with Bard who is as grim-faced and dour looking as he remembers him. Bard gives him an almost smile and for a moment his face nearly relaxes until he looks down at Bilbo.

“My children are here if he wishes to stay with them.” Bard suggests, gesturing towards the throne room.

“You may go play, Bilbo."

Play is the only encouragement he needs to pad off. Thranduil hovers, listening for the question and squeak before he nods at Bard.

Thorin Oakenshield walks with a limp, though his pride is still there. The prince sits beside him, face twisting into a grimace as he rubs his leg under the table.

The meeting is brief. The doors burst open as a child runs to Bard, tugging furiously on his sleeve, panting as she claims Bilbo is hurt.

The dwarves hover behind him, seemingly stunned. A moment of gawking and then they follow him towards the sound of crying.

Bilbo sits on the ground with his leg drawn to his chest, bloody and scraped. "We were running and he fell down." The child murmurs, pettingnhis shoulder. 

“No harm has been done. Come, Bilbo, it's merely a scrape.” Thranduil runs his hands through his hair, down his wet cheeks.

"Everyone said Bilbo disappeared after battle," the prince gasps, "No one ever responsed to letters."

Bilbo sniffles, smiling timidly as he reaches up for his cheek.

"Can we play now?"


End file.
